


Decimation

by JustAnotherGhostwriter



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Angst, F/M, Pete's World, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-06
Updated: 2013-03-06
Packaged: 2017-12-04 11:29:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/710307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAnotherGhostwriter/pseuds/JustAnotherGhostwriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Captain Jones of Torchwood Wales answers Torchwood One's cry for help. He arrives at the place where Torchwood One once stood and finds nothing but a smoking wreck. Pete's World ficlet where everybody realizes once again that humans are only mortal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Decimation

**Author's Note:**

> Creative License: Use, reblog, edit, destroy etc as you will. I don’t care. Just if it is used for fic or art in some way please consider linking me? I love reading/looking.
> 
> Author’s Note: Don't have a clue where this came from. It just came. And I obeyed. Sorry. (Also, in case you haven't noticed yet, my headcanon stipulates that Jake and Rose are total bffs. Just putting that out there in case.)

Captain Jones arrived at the site to find nothing but a wasteland. He'd worked hard in order to be promoted to the first captain the Welsh Division of Torchwood had seen. He'd worked hard and he'd proved himself and he'd seen far too much. Even after all of that, however, the site that greeted him made him feel sick. They'd received the mayday call that something was wrong at Torchwood One. There hadn't been time for details - they had to come then and damn peace they needed to bring guns. He'd expected trouble.   
   
He got a smoking wreck where the building of Torchwood One had once stood.   
   
The city around the disaster was in chaos - panicked people and panicked medical teams and panicked police. Uniforms swarmed around the fringes of the Torchwood property; they were too afraid to go any further.   
   
Finally, Jones caught sight of a familiar face. Agent Hayes. He was almost nothing more than a boy – a kid who had proved himself in the aftermath of the Cybermen invasion and who had been offered an internship at Torchwood One when he turned eighteen. His face was completely shell-shocked as he stood among the loud, scurrying, useless officers. Walking slowly so that he was not noticed or questioned, Jones made his way over to Hayes. Hayes got one look at him approaching and he lurched forwards, arms honest-to-goodness reaching up as though he wanted to grip the front of Jones’ shirt and never let go.

 

“What happened? Hayes?”

 

Hayes stopped just in front of him, arms falling limply to his sides as he controlled himself. He was pale and wide-eyed and, given the place he was standing, Jones couldn’t blame him.

 

“I…” Hayes shook his head. “It was fine. All of it was fine. And then there were alarms and nobody knew what to do and…” Jones stayed silent, knowing from experience that Hayes had to get it out in his own time, for his own good. “From what I can tell, things started getting nasty a long time before that. I think they called you just when the alarms started – Jenkins was on the phone…”

 

“It was Jenkins who called, yeah,” Jones prompted gently when the silence stretched. He knew this was hard, but he had to know. He had to figure this out and then act accordingly.

 

“It’s just… it’s so confusing. There was fighting. I think I – I’m sure I heard fighting. And yelling. But then everybody was running out – on orders, mind – and it was going to be okay. But there was this smell in the building… I dunno what it was. I just… it was wrong. You could tell it was wrong. And then the last of us are piling out and somebody starts screaming about the Special Agents investigating an UO in the protected lab and… And they went back and…”

 

Hayes was looking, stricken, at the scene of decimation before them. Jones swallowed, checked to see that his Agent was ready with a tablet, and then changed tracks on Hayes.

 

“Hayes… Where are the agents that escaped?”

 

Hayes shook his head. “Dunno. I was one of the last. I got caught…” He looked surprised, as though he’d just remembered that fact. “I got caught and we were the last three to leave…”

 

“Dispatch somebody to find the survivors of Torchwood One. They would have stuck together.” Jones got a nod of obedience and while the agent dealt with his order, he turned to Hayes again. “So you stayed here while it…?” Blew up seemed too tame – there wasn’t even debris. Hayes nodded jerkily. “So then you’ll know where the Special Agents went to?”

 

Hayes trembled and then pointed, mutely to their right. Jones looked up to find a row of gurneys occupied with lumps covered completely by white sheets. He felt sick again. It took him a beat longer than it should have to continue.

 

“And the agents who went back for them?”

 

Hayes had begun to cry. Jones doubted he noticed. “Agent Simmonds is over there.” He pointed to Torchwood One’s closest neighbour. Against the wall slumped a figure, curled in on himself, hidden by the dustbins that flanked him on either side. Jones would have missed him if he hadn’t been told to look. That was very unlike the usually rather brash blonde. Worry churned in Jones’ stomach. But he never had the chance to ask after Simmonds’ wellbeing. Hayes completed the answer to his last question before he could form the next one. “Agent Tyler…” This time the point was to the gurneys.

 

Jones swore his heart stopped beating. Later, he’d be sure his internal denial had been whispered out loud. No. No, no, no, no. Memories assaulted him and it was all he could do to keep his last meal down, now. With monumental effort, he didn’t fall apart. Instead, he turned to the agent behind him and in charge of getting Hayes some medical attention. Then he strode over to Simmonds.

 

His pace slackened the nearer he got.

 

“Jake.” The head shot up and blue eyes pierced him at once. They were as lost as Hayes’ had been, but in a deeper way. “Jake what-?” He couldn’t complete the sentence. “Where are the other agents?” he asked instead.

 

“Warehouse two streets down.” Jake’s voice was mechanical. “That’s the default meeting point in an emergency.” A pause, and then more words spilled out, as though Jones had pushed an “Information Please” button on a robot. “Tosh is dead. Body never got dragged out. Wasn’t time. Director Tyler got knocked out just as the real shit began, so he was hauled out early by Monroe. There was a lot of blood – they should be in a hospital somewhere.”

 

Jones’ heart was aching. “So Pete doesn’t know?”

 

For the first time since he’d known the man, Jones saw Jake’s face break. The heartache was clear on his dirt-smeared face – she’d been his best friend. His very, very best friend. Everybody had always joked that if Simmonds had been even a little bit straight he would have been completely besotted with her. Pete had joked that he basically had an adopted son – Jake had only moved out of the Tyler mansion when Rose had, after all. She’d been his little sister, his big sister, his best friend, his ally…

 

“I should call Jackie. I should. But I…”

 

Can’t. Jones nodded jerkily, a little relieved when Jake hid his face away again. Jones was in charge of sorting this shit out – he could not afford any sort of breaking. But, oh, if he’d have to be the one to tell Pete or Jackie… And Tony… The kid worshipped his big sister… And the Tylers – as terrible as it would be to tell them, to see them when the news hit, to be the one to tell them their lives were in ruins – would not be the worst. Because he was away consulting at Torchwood Scotland. He wouldn’t know that his wife…

 

Jake seemed to be on the same wavelength as him. “He never would have let her… He would have saved her. How can I look at him when I couldn’t save her? I tried… I tried so hard but… She was right there in front of me and somehow… I didn’t die.” It wasn’t a statement – it was a curse.

 

Before Jones could answer, somebody called him from behind.

 

“Captain Jones!” One of his ran up, panting slightly. “We’ve located them, sir.” By his tone of voice, Jones could tell he wasn’t talking about the other Torchwood One agents. “We managed to get a tracking on them and they appear to be standing still-“

 

“Get a team ready to mobilize!” Jones barked, and was pleased to see the agent was already running away before he’d even finished his sentence. There was movement to his right and he glanced around to find Jake on his feet. The burning in the British man’s eyes was hard and so painful at the same time. Jones had come face to face with the man who had resisted the Cybermen with almost no resources and no hope. “Jake,” he started to warn.

 

Jake launched forwards in one furious move and shoved his hands right under Jones’ nose. They were covered in blood. He didn’t have to ask whose it was. “Tell me I can’t!” he growled, the stained appendages shaking. “Tell me I can’t go after those bastards! Tell me I can’t rip them to pieces! Tell me! _Tell me_!”

 

Jones couldn’t. Jake took over the gun of one of his agents and the team set out to the location point, hoping the aliens would not get away from them. They didn’t.

 

The Torchwood team arrived to find their destination in flames.

 

The agents, alarmed, began searching the area, unsure of what to do and calling in the events to those back at base. Jones and Jake just stared, watching the flames. Jake threw down his gun a little bitterly.

 

“Covering their tracks?” Jones mused out loud.

 

“No.” Jake’s voice was ice. “He got here first.”

 

Looking up to where Simmonds was indicating, Jones saw a figure beyond the flames. He wore blue pinstripe, charred brown hair, and an expression that could have made half the universe bow before him in cowardice. He was not terrifying. Terrifying would have been tame standing next to him. And his eyes were burning brighter than the flames he was watching with that cold, endless gaze of his. The only thing Jones’ stunned (petrified, terrified, awed, meek) mind could think of was that nobody had to call Scotland and let the Doctor know.

 

The Doctor already knew. And some people (things – people needed them to be humane) had paid for it.

 

“Don’t tell anybody you saw him,” Jake said quietly. “It’ll give him a head start.”

 

“You think he’ll disappear?”

 

“The centre of his very universe is gone. Why the hell would he stay?”

 

Jones had no answer to that. He had no answer to any of this. All he had was the sight of a terrifying burning man and a memory of another type of fear – the fear of his first day at work that had been chased away by a girl with light in her eyes, a near-constant smile on her face that he’d been so happy to call his friend.


End file.
